


Wildest Dreams

by TheoMiller



Series: Not A Rom Com [1]
Category: Fantastic Four (2015)
Genre: F/M, Neck Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-27 22:29:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5066956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheoMiller/pseuds/TheoMiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing lasts forever, but this is getting good now. - Sue doesn't have an eidetic memory. But he's branded into her mind anyway, and she is suddenly very, very intent on making sure that Victor can't hear her name without remembering this, remembering her like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wildest Dreams

Victor is kissing his way down her neck, his hands clutching at her hips like she's made of glass, like she might shatter if he holds too tightly, or if he drops her. She knows how his brain works, knows that he's committing every second of this to memory whether he wants to or not.

Sue leans back and he responds automatically by giving her a few inches of space. But he scowls, pupils wide and dark, annoyed at being interrupted in his careful cataloguing of her skin.

She flicks her gaze over his face, his narrowed eyes, his still-damp lips faintly parted because he's breathing as heavily as her, the five o'clock shadow encroaching on his jaw. Sue doesn't have an eidetic memory. But he's branded into her mind anyway, and she is suddenly very, very intent on making sure that Victor can't hear her name without remembering this, remembering her like this.

She wants him to think of her pressed against him. Of her lying on the sheets of his dorm room's twin bed. Of how she'd looked earlier tonight—wearing the dress he's already stripped her out of and tossed over his shoulder, her hair pulled out her face, wearing lipstick and looking at him through her lashes on the edge of the roof of the Baxter building with New York lit up behind her.

 _I don't do this for just anyone,_ she'd said, when he'd run his thumb across her lipstick, eyebrows arched. It hadn't smeared, because she'd consulted some of the girls in the materials science department, and let them babble about their work until they finally got around to answering her question – namely telling her how to get cherry red lipstick that wouldn't smudge or smear or fade even if her lips got a fair bit of use. The girls, bless them, hadn't even thought to ask who the hell she was planning on demonstrating the wonders of the lipstick for.

Sue curls her hands around his biceps and pushes him back, stepping forward as he somehow manages to backpedal without tripping, when she's pretty sure she'd fall flat on her ass, three years of ballet be damned. His knees hit the bed and he sits, tugging her along by her hips so that she's flush against him, his breath curling warmly over her bare chest and raising goosebumps in its wake. She straddles his lap, and he slides his hands up to her hair so he can pull her closer and kiss her.

There's a moment, though, where he just stays there, their foreheads tilted together, breathing each other's air.

She kisses him, all reckless abandon, tilting his head back and curling her tongue around his like she's trying Johnny's cherry-tying trick.

Victor's short nails are digging into her scalp, and she pulls back the tiniest bit to bite at his lip, laughing a bit at the way Victor growls like a damned dog when the smallest iota of contact is lost, and then loses his air in a sharp exhale when she punctuates her laugh with another quick, urgent kiss.

His hands leave her hair, and she has a moment of empathy for Victor's growling before he's grabbing her waist and rearranging them so that she's falling back on her bed with him braced over her.

"Sue," he says, breathless.

Her startled smile curls into something she thinks might be a smirk. "Promise me," she says, as he runs his knuckles over her skin.

Victor wets his lips, staring at her. "Promise you?" he asks, and his hand uncurls and grips too tightly just above her knee as he flickers his eyes over her face.

"You know what," says Sue. Which is ridiculous, because she's not entirely sure what she's asking for, but his gaze is serious and a little bit lost when it meets hers.

He leans down, and it's not even a kiss, really, just the faintest ghost of a touch, and it aches in her chest. "Never," he promises.

And then she's wrapping her legs around his waist and he's sliding down her bed and pulling her legs up and over his shoulders as he kisses his way down her stomach leaving her skin covered in goosebumps in his wake.

It's not until the dawn is bleeding through the tightly grouped buildings outside her window that he tilts their foreheads together again and says, "Promise me?"

They're still tangled together, tucked up close and sharing her pillow, their free hands laced together, their other hands pinned between them. _Gordian knots_ , she thinks. _Just waiting on the sword._

"Always," she says.


End file.
